


Snowflakes

by sukikobold



Series: Post-pacifist Ending [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Cold Weather, Family, Female Frisk, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:23:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sukikobold/pseuds/sukikobold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-pacifist Ending. On her way home from visiting the skeletons', Frisk runs into some weather trouble. Storms were one trial she never had to face underground. Snowstorm/snowed-in fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowflakes

Snowflakes floated noiselessly down past the frosted window. Frisk watched from inside, her chin resting on her arms as she leaned on the back of the couch. Beside her, Papyrus was positioned similarly, with only his fingers moving as they tapped the couch impatiently.

“…Are we still going?” he asked.

“Mmhm,” answered Frisk.

“Ah,” he said, turning his attention back to the snowflakes. At the other end of the living room, Sans was on his cell phone.

“Yeah…yeah, I hear ya…we haven’t had the TV on…no, it’s still pretty calm over here…yeah…yeah, okay…we’ll get her home, Tory…yes, promise…okay, bye…bye.” He hung up with a hint of exasperation.

“Welp,” he said, pocketing his phone, “Looks like Frisk is going home early.”

“What?!” exclaimed Papyrus, “But we were having so much fun! What for?”

“Some big snow storm’s coming through.”

“Aw,” Papyrus rested his head back on the couch, “We were supposed to build a fire and make s’mores later.”

“Can’t I spend the night here?” asked Frisk as she turned to Sans. He shrugged.

“If you think you can convince Toriel.”

Frisk sat back down. Tomorrow was a school day, so that would be an almost definite “no”. She frowned. Roasting marshmallows had sounded really fun, too. She had never done it herself, and even if it wasn’t as good as it sounded, she was sure her friends would still make it fun.

“Hey,” she said after a moment of thought, “You guys have a microwave, right?”

“Yes!” Papyrus answered confidently, “Sadly, it has only one setting for spaghetti, but other than that I suppose it’s passable.”

“Cool. I want to try something,” said Frisk, jumping off the couch.

In a few minutes the three of them were in the kitchen. The brothers were gathered around Frisk as she carefully assembled the sandwich of crackers, puffed sugar and chocolate.

“How long do we do this for?” asked Sans as she placed it in the microwave.

“I have no idea,” she answered.

“Hmm.” Papyrus tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Let’s start small and see what happens.” He punched “30” into the timer and pressed “start”. Then the three of them leaned in to watch as the stack of food began to turn.

“When do we know when it’s done?” asked Papyrus immediately. Frisk shrugged.

“Hey, it’s moving,” said Sans.

“Of course it’s moving!” replied Papyrus.

“No, I mean the _food_ is moving.”

“You’re right!” exclaimed Papyrus, “It’s puffing out! Wait, is it alive? Have we been eating them without their permission this whole time?!”

“It’s getting big,” said Frisk.

“Whoops, we lost the top cracker,” said Sans.

“Should I stop it?” asked Papyrus.

“No, I want to see what happens,” answered Sans.

“I think we were supposed to use a plate,” said Frisk.

Finally a loud beep sounded and the microwave stopped. The marshmallow inside had expanded more than three times its size, spilling out over the edges on the base cracker. Frisk reached in and tried to scoop her hands under the mass of white fluff, but immediately flinched and drew them back.

“Hot?” asked Sans as she was blowing on her fingers. He collected the mess out of the microwave as Frisk ran to the sink to let the cool water run over her hands.

“Should we try again?” he asked when he looked at the sticky glob he was holding.

“Not with our cooking station like this, we won’t,” answered Papyrus, “I refuse to let my friend cook in anything less than a pristine microwave!”

“Alright,” said Sans with a shrug. As Papyrus left to get cleaning supplies, he followed Frisk over by the sink.

“How are your fingers?”

“Okay,” she said, moving so he could wash the sugary mess off his own hands.

Papyrus began to clean the microwave and Sans and Frisk sat on the dining table behind him. Frisk was lazily kicking her feet when Sans produced two spoons. Shortly, the two of them began launching marshmallows at Papyrus’s back. He did not notice as they bounced harmlessly across his head and back. At least, not until one of them landed in his workspace. Then he turned and told them that no, they could not cook anything else until he was finished.

Their next cooking attempt went a little better. Sans tried it and confessed that it was still pretty face-melting so it was a good thing he didn’t have one. A few more tries and they finally found a suitable cooking time for the marshmallows. The sandwich was a little too sweet for Frisk’s tastes, but she enjoyed it anyway.

As she was eating, Sans’ cell phone rang and Frisk stopped mid-bite. He looked at the caller’s name before answering it and motioned for the other two to be quiet.

“Hey Tori…yeah, they just left…well, Frisk wanted to say goodbye…yeah…okay, thanks…Bye.” He hung up quickly.

“Who just left?” asked Papyrus.

“You two. You’re leaving now. Come on,” he said, waving them to follow as he hurried into the living room. Ah, thought Frisk, she’s not happy.

“You’re not coming?” Papyrus asked him once they were at the front door. Though he didn’t need it, he had put on a thick brown overcoat atop of his usual red scarf. Frisk was zipping up her own winter coat.

“Uh, no. I already told her I was at home, right?” replied Sans.

Papyrus frowned. “I don’t see why you didn’t just tell her we were leaving.” He opened the door and a blast of wintery air blew inside. Frisk quickly finished pulling her gloves on.

“What happened to our nice calm snow from earlier?” asked Papyrus as he looked out into the windy flurries.

“They went on holiday,” answered Sans, “Careful on the road, alright?” Frisk gave Sans a quick hug before following Papyrus outside. She immediately regretted not bringing a hat. The wind was strong and icy, and snowflakes kept blowing into her eyes. They wasted no time getting into Papyrus’ red convertible with its roof up and sealed for the winter weather.

“Perhaps we should have put the s’mores on hold?” Papyrus commented as he peered through the windshield at the dark road before them. Frisk shrugged. Truthfully, she had enjoyed their little procrastination adventure.

Soon they were driving down the snow-covered road. Thick flakes pelted the windshield, decreasing their already limited visibility. Papyrus was leaning forward, his eye sockets squinting at the small section of road illuminated by his headlights. After a while he commented, “At least we have the road to ourselves.” Frisk nodded. She hadn’t seen a single other car on the road, and with Papyrus’s careful driving she felt quite safe in spite of the blizzard.

“Uh-oh,” she heard him say. The car slowed and began to struggle as they reached a large hill.

“You can make it,” Frisk encouraged as the car inched its way upward through the snow. Although at the rate they were going Frisk thought the wind was pushing them back down. Finally after almost five minutes they reached the peak. Papyrus let out a sound of accomplishment and Frisk laughed. The car gained some of its traction back and they started downhill. The car sailed down, letting gravity do most of the work. It was only when they were almost at the bottom when Frisk registered the sound of Papyrus pumping the break pedal, and their vehicle showing no change in speed.

“Frisk,” he said warningly as the road flattened out. They were racing down the road now and the headlights suddenly illuminated a bend in the curb. Papyrus swung the steering wheel to the left but the car did not respond and Frisk grabbed onto the sides of her seat as they flew off the road.

 

The lit buttons of the dashboard swam before Frisk's eyes as she tried to focus. Her chest hurt where Papyrus's arm had swung into it to hold her in place during the crash. Papyrus? She blinked and turned towards the driver's side, her vision still unsteady. In the dark, she thought she could see him sitting up and rubbing his forehead, or perhaps holding it.

"Frisk?" he asked, "Are- are you okay?"

She nodded slowly then realizing he could barely see her answered, "Yeah. What about you?"

"Fine" he answered, though she could hear a light shake in his voice.

Frisk unbuckled herself and rubbed the spots where she had been thrown against the seatbelt. Once they had both taken a minute to recover, Papyrus moved the gear shifter around and revved the engine, but the car refused to move. He sighed and sat back.

“I’m,” he started after a moment, “I’m going to check something.” Then he opened the door to step out. Frisk saw his figure vanish suddenly along with a sound of crushing snow. She scrambled over onto the driver’s seat and stuck her head out into the windy air.

“Papyrus?” she called to a deep, dark hole in the snow. She could hear movements within until a familiar skull poked out of it. Clumps of wet whiteness stuck to his crown.

“This snow is very deep,” he stated simply as he reached up to find a grip on the car door. Frisk chuckled, some of the shock of the crash starting to leave her. Even after pulling himself to his feet, the snow still came up to Papyrus’s waist. He directed Frisk to pull her head in so he could shut the door before he waded around to the front of the car.

Inside, Frisk sat patiently. Surprisingly, as she thought of their situation, she found herself worrying less about the car and more about how Toriel would react when they didn’t show up on time. Should she call her? Probably not. At least not until she knew they were really in trouble. And she had to confess, being stuck out here in the snow was a little exciting.

Soon, the driver’s door opened and after patting as much snow off of his coat as he could Papyrus climbed back in.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “We’re in a ditch. And the car doesn’t seem to want to move, so…” He trailed off.

“We’re stuck?” asked Frisk. Papyrus nodded.

“Too bad Undyne’s not here,” Frisk found herself musing, “She could just lift us out.”

“True,” said Papyrus, then he looked at her, “Are you cold?” Frisk shook her head.

“I’m okay.” The car had warmed up through their drive, and the engine was still running.

“Good,” he said. For the next few minutes, they sat in relative silence, neither of them too sure what to do now.

“Should I call Sans?” Frisk finally asked. She knew Toriel would be getting worried, but she’d rather call her once they had some sort of plan. She still couldn’t see well in the dim lighting but she thought Papyrus was frowning.

“I don’t want to worry him but…we probably should.”

Frisk pressed the top button on her phone and the screen lit up, illuminating the car’s interior. The power bar showed the battery was running low so she quickly pulled up Sans’s number. The phone rang a number of times. Frisk was worried the answering machine might come up when it finally clicked.

“Frisk?” came Sans’s voice at last. He sounded mildly surprised. “What’s up? You forget something?”

“Um, no. Sans, the car, um…” She glanced at Papyrus, trying to think of how to tell him. “The car kind of…ran off the road. Into a ditch.”

“It-” Sans’s usually calm and casual voice slipped into alarm. “Are you alright? Is Papyrus alright?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. The car won’t move though. Um…we’re at the bottom of that huge hill. It’s only a few minutes’ drive from the house.” She looked up at Papyrus as if to get more input. He was staring at the steering wheel quietly. “…Should we try walking back, you think?”

“No!” he said immediately, “No, just…just hang on a second.” There was a pause for a while. “Look, stay where you are for now. I’ll try to come and find you, okay?”

“By yourself?” she asked.

“I’ll be there soon.”

“O-okay,” she said, though he had already hung up.

“Well?” asked Papyrus.

“Sans says we should stay here and wait for him.”

“To come here? On his own?” he asked incredulously.

“I guess so,” Frisk said, shrugging. It was Sans. Even if he seemed lazy or irresponsible, he usually knew what he was doing. Papyrus made a noise she guessed meant disapproval.

“Frisk?” he said.

“Yeah?”

He didn’t continue for a moment, seeming to second guess his original thought. “Would you be alright on your own for a while?”

“You’re going out too?” she asked him, a little alarmed.

“I don’t want Sans to get lost,” he said with a gentler tone, “If I leave the engine running, would you be warm enough?”

Frisk frowned but nodded. “Do you think you’d be able to find him, though?” she asked.

“Of course! I have traveled this road many, many times! Even if I hadn’t, I have an excellent memory for roads.”

"...Fine," she conceded.

"As soon as I find Sans, we'll come straight back," he assured her. Frisk almost asked what they would do then, but stopped herself. They'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

"See you soon," he said. He gave her a quick pat on the shoulder before pushing his door open and stepping out. After he closed the door, Frisk could only see a foggy dark silhouette of his figure that disappeared within a few moments.

She waited. In the close, dark space of the car she might have been comfortable, but the constant rush of wind blowing outside kept her mind elsewhere. She kept unconsciously reaching down for her cell phone only to put it back down. She couldn’t waste the batteries. Papyrus had frequently reminded her over the past winter that he couldn’t feel cold, but she had to wonder. They may have been just bones but they were still living, in a way. True, they had lived in Snowdin when in the Underground, but could they even get snowstorms down there? She was trying not to worry, but she didn’t have much else to think about at the moment.

About twenty to thirty minutes after Papyrus had left, she noticed a sudden drop in the noise. The engine had shut off. Frisk reached over and fumbled for the ignition. She twisted the keys, then twisted them again. The car gave no response. She pulled her hand back and her mind began to race. Flipping her phone out, she pressed the redial button and held it to her ear. It rang for four or five times before going to voicemail. After a brief “hey” came through in Sans’s voice the tone sounded to record a message. Frisk ended the call to save power. They were both out in the storm…somewhere.

She sat in the nearly black, powerless car, on the edge of her decision to stay or not. Then, filled with determination, she opened the door and stepped out, only to sink into chest-high snow. She had forgotten about Papyrus’s initial fall. Praying it was only this deep in the ditch they had landed in, she dug and waded her way towards the back of the car. She soon found where the land sloped and climbed and scrambled her way up. Outside the ditch, the wind hit her full-force. Frisk covered her face with her gloves. It was bitingly cold, but she couldn’t stop here. She peered through her fingers and found that a streetlamp near where they had gone off-road was casting a dim light through the snow. The car had cleared something of a path when it had slid through, and Frisk took that to return to the road. If not for their quickly vanishing tire tracks, she wouldn’t have even been able to tell where the road was.

She called Papyrus’s name. Of course he wouldn’t have been nearby, but it was worth a shot. Seeing no better option, Frisk started following the road. She tried to stay on the sidewalk and off the road itself, but it was almost impossible to tell what was where beneath the snow. Soon the land sloped back up, and she began the long trek uphill. The snow often concealed patches of ice on the road and more than once she had to catch herself so she didn’t slide all the way back down. Often she moved to the grass beside the road to get a better footing. Frisk kept her head down, protecting it however much she could against the wind sweeping down on her and unable to see how close she was to the top. At last she reached the crest of the hill, her legs aching and her body both overheated and freezing at once. She rested for only a minute or so before she started heading down. It was much easier on her legs, but when she occasionally tried to slide down, it was better at pushing snow into her clothes than at making her journey faster. She stumbled onto even ground once again and almost fell to her knees. The trip always seemed so fast when driving, but with the wind, the snow, and the arduous climb, Frisk was exhausted. She brushed the thick snowflakes out of her bangs and tried to look ahead. A few scattered street lamps gave her some view of a snow covered road snaking along a wide curve and then into a short bridge tunnel and out of her sight. There. Maybe there she could rest a little.

By this point Frisk had well lost feeling in her fingers, in spite of her gloves. The wind seemed to blow right into them and she tucked them under her arms. Rather than follow the road exactly, Frisk tried to save time by cutting through across the field it bordered. The snow was deeper as she stepped off road and it quickly worked its way into her boots. She was only wearing jeans today that gave her almost no insulation, and the snow soon took away any heat she had remaining in her legs. After another age of trudging through endless white, she climbed back onto the road. By the time she had entered the meager shelter of the tunnel, she felt ready to collapse.

Frisk found some shelter from the wind in one of the bridge’s support beams and sunk into a sitting position next to it. She wanted to let her body go limp, but instead pulled up her legs and tried to shield her hands close to her chest. What now? She was nowhere near close to the brothers’ house. Even with no heat, the car had provided ample shelter from the wind and snow. Why had she left it again? Oh right. She was trying to find them. And they were trying to find her. Well, they’d have to pass through here to reach the car, right? Hopefully. Why did she have to try to be the hero again? Or maybe…maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe she was just scared to be alone. Frisk let her head, wet with melting snow, fall onto her knees.

After a minute or so of catching her breath, she sat up straight and began fishing in her pocket for her cell phone. There was only a small sliver of power left on the screen. It was hard to grip it with the gloves on, and even harder to press the buttons. Eventually she pulled one off. Her fingers were white and stiff as she pressed the right buttons. She stuffed that hand into her coat pocket as she listened to the phone ring. _Pick up,_ she prayed silently, please _pick up._ Three rings. Four. She was biting her lip when a voice finally answered.

“Frisk?” She could barely hear Sans over the wind, on his end and her own. “What is it? You okay?”

“S-s-s” Frisk’s voice was shaking so hard when she started speaking she had to stop and try again. “Sans, I-I’m outside.”

“What? I can’t hear you.”

“I’m outs-side, Sans!”

“What? Why? Where’s Papyrus?”

“H-he left to f-find you.”

“Frisk I can’t hear you.”

“He’s _looking_ for you!”

“And he took you with him?”

“No! The p-power went out a-and I…I-I thought I could f-fi-”

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m underneath t-the bridge-”

“You gotta speak up, Frisk!”

“I’m under the bridge!”

She waited for a response.

“S-sans?” She heard nothing. She looked at her phone and the screen was black. It had run out of power.

 _What…do I do?_ she asked herself. What _should_ she do? Go forward? Go back? Did he hear the last thing she said? Frisk had no idea. She was beginning to feel as though she might freeze in place on the cold, snow-powdered cement. She stood up and began to pace, her hands tucked beneath her arms, and stayed as close to the side of the tunnel as she could. Time passed. Her thoughts were so many and disjointed that afterwards she couldn’t remember any of them.

Frisk stopped pacing. For just a moment, she thought she had heard a voice beneath the layers of howling wind. She listened. Was it…? It certainly sounded like her name.

“Hello?!” she called into the wind, “I’m here!” She could still hear the voice, though it was still too soft for her to be certain that was what it was. Over time, the yells grew closer and more clear. It was definitely calling her name. Finally, from the other end of the tunnel a figure worked its way through the blizzard towards her. She almost didn’t recognize him.

"Frisk?" Sans asked, pulling back his hood to look at her, "Hey… hey." He was breathing heavily. His well-worn blue hoodie and usual shorts were completely plastered with snow.

"Sorry I took so long," he continued as he approached her, "How are you holding up?"

"O-okay," she managed, but her voice shook so much she barely got it out. Sans quickly unzipped and took off his hoodie. He shook it and slapped off as much snow as he could before wrapping it around her shoulders.

"Papyrus?" he asked.

Frisk shook her head, pulling the new covering closer. Sans looked out at the storm that still raged relentlessly. He looked at Frisk, then back out.

"I…" he finally spoke, "I don't think we should go back out in this. Not now, anyway. Let's wait until the wind dies down." Frisk, still shivering so much she didn't want to speak, nodded. She walked back towards the stone pillar, as cold as it was to lean against, and tried to condense her body into a small warm ball. Sans sat down next to her on the windward side. He pulled her in and with his thin arms tried to shield her as much as possible from the cold. As she leaned into his chest, Frisk noticed with surprise that there was warmth there. Not quite like the warmth of another human being, more like...the warmth of Toriel's fireplace. A magical warmth. She buried her face into his shirt and finally started to relax.

 

Frisk woke up. She hadn't realized how sleepy she had been getting. There was no way for her to tell when she had dozed off or how long ago. She tried to move her legs to sit up, but she could barely feel them.

“Sans?” she said, her voice dry. But when she did sit up, she found that his eye sockets were closed. She repeated his name, shaking the bony forearm that had slipped off her when she had moved. He didn’t respond, instead slumping against the column when she shook him. Bad. She looked around but it was still just the two of them in the tunnel. What had happened to Papyrus? Using the column for support, and with many unsuccessful attempts, Frisk struggled to her feet. She shook Sans and called his name one more time, but it had no effect. Wrapping her own arms around herself, Frisk stepped into the middle of the tunnel and stared out into the storm. It hadn’t relented a bit as far as she could tell. She licked her lips which were dry and cracking, and took a deep breath.

“ _HELP!_ ” she called into the wind. Then she waited. And waited. But no one-

Suddenly, she saw something strange through the blizzard. Flying snow, but in the opposite direction of the wind, splashing up in spurts. The cloud grew bigger and she realized it was getting closer with every splash. Finally it ended in an explosion where the snow thinned out beneath the bridge and, looking mildly surprised, Papyrus stepped in. He was covered in even more snow than Sans had been and was holding a large shovel in his hands. When he saw Frisk he almost dropped it.

“Frisk!” he exclaimed as he rushed in and kneeled down in front of her, “What are you doing? It’s very cold out here!”

Frisk might’ve laughed if she hadn’t been so freezing.

“The car s-stopped working,” she answered simply.

“Is that Sans’s coat?” he asked as he was rubbing her arms, trying to give her some heat.

“Yeah. He found me, but he won’t wake up now.”

“What?!” Papyrus stood up. Frisk looked towards the column by which they had been resting and Papyrus followed her gaze to the sleeping form of his brother. He immediately walked over, bent down, and grabbed Sans under the arms to lift him off of the ground.

“Sans, wake up,” he said. Sans remained motionless, “Sans!” Still nothing.

“SANS YOU LAZYBONES, _WAKE UP!”_

Frisk almost jumped at the sudden volume. Sans did too.

“H-huh? Bro?”

“What are you doing falling asleep in the middle of a blizzard?!”

“Huh? Oh, I was-” His eyes widened. “Where’s Frisk?”

She stepped up next to them in response.

He relaxed. “Ah…sorry about that. Guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“Well, just don’t do it on our way back,” said Papyrus as he set him back on his feet.

Sans looked out into the storm before turning back to Frisk. “…You think you’ll be alright?”

She nodded stiffly. “I j-just want to be inside now.”

“It should be easy going,” said Papyrus brightly, “I cleared a path from the house back here.”

“You reached the house?” asked Sans.

“Yes. When you weren’t there, I decided to dig my way back to make it easier on Frisk.”

“But you two never ran into each other,” Frisk commented.

“The visibility out there is somewhere around very little to none. We should stay close going back.”

Bracing themselves to face the storm once more, the trio started walking. Papyrus’s path _was_ easy going, comparatively. Though there was already a light layer of snow on top of it that rose as they went, it was far better than trudging through the deep waves of it as Frisk had. Papyrus led the way, tossing away snow that had fallen from the edges with his shovel. The path itself wasn’t perfectly straight. It soon traveled away from the road and the walls of snow on either side grew taller. Frisk appreciated this, since the wind blew over her rather than into her.

“Ah,” said Papyrus after a while. They had reached a steep slope in the land that ran upwards above their heads. The path went straight up. Papyrus had stopped at it, but desperate to keep moving Frisk squeezed past him and started to climb up. She tried to find hand holds as she went, but her frozen fingers couldn’t keep a grip. About halfway up she slipped and in a terrifying moment began to fall backwards. She was caught.

“Take it easy, Frisk,” said Papyrus, his voice almost at her ear. He shifted her onto one arm, and in a few quick movements was at the top. Frisk barely made note that Sans was already there when they got up. Papyrus didn’t put her back down after that, and she didn’t ask him to. She was too tired, too cold, too numb to care.

Frisk didn’t remember the rest of the journey. The next time she became conscious of something, it was when she realized the wind wasn’t blowing on her anymore.

“Frisk?” she heard Papyrus say, “We made it.” She said nothing, but could feel the warmer air embracing her when she heard the door shut. The inside of the house was about as dark as it had been outside.

“Crap,” she suddenly heard Sans say.

“What is it?” asked Papyrus over the sound of a switch being flicked over and over.

“Power’s dead.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nah, my jokes are way more hilarious.”

“So…what should we do now?”

“Think you can find some blankets in the dark?”

Frisk was gently lowered to the ground where she swayed a moment, her legs still numb.

“I shall return shortly!” announced Papyrus. As his steps retreated into the house, she could hear an occasional thunk as he hit things.

“Hmm,” she heard Sans mumble something to himself. A few moments later a light turned on. Frisk had to squint and blink as her eyes adjusted to the bright lantern Sans was suddenly holding. She began to wonder where it came from then decided not to care.

He shone the light on the fireplace at the end of the living room.

“Whaddya think? Should we start a fire?”

Frisk nodded stiffly. Though not sapping the heat from her body as the outside had, the dark, familiar house still felt cold. Sans knelt down in front of the hearth and, in spite of her exhaustion, Frisk joined him. He sifted through the contents of a bin of firewood and tinder to the side, seeming a little lost.

“It’s, uh, been a while since I’ve done this,” he confessed.

Frisk watched him try to build the base for the fire. After a few minutes she noticed that she was still shivering. She hadn’t even taken off her gloves or boots yet. Soon she could hear the soft “plip” of water and looked down to see droplets on the floor beneath her. Sans stopped working and glanced over at her.

“Oh, jeeze,” he muttered as he stood up. He helped her off the ground and started to work off the jacket he had lent her. It was sopping wet with melted snow.

“Why didn’t you say something, kid?” he asked quietly as he helped her take off her own coat, gloves, and boots that were also wet. They ended up in a heap near the wall. Even her clothes were wet, the snow having seeped into her collar and the remains of the blizzard still plastered on her jeans.

“Hey, Bro?” Sans suddenly called out into the room.

“Yes?” came Papyrus’s voice, loud and clear despite coming from the other end of the house.

“You have a spare shirt?”

“Yes!”

“Could’ja bring it out?”

“Yes!”

Sans exhaled and looked back at her for a few moments before he spoke again.  
“Sorry,” he said quietly.

Frisk looked at him with question.

“Guess we should have just let you stay over in the first place.”

She managed to give him a smile before he turned back to the fireplace. Frisk sat down to try and help him but by the time Papyrus had returned they hadn’t made anything but smoke.

“You don’t look much warmer, Frisk” he remarked when he saw her, his brow furrowed. “Well, no wonder!” he continued when he noticed the ‘fire’, “Look at this mess. You have to start with a structured base!” He passed the armful of different colored cloth he’d been carrying to Frisk and shooed Sans aside so he could get at the fire. Frisk slipped back towards the couch. A large white shirt was folded neatly on top of the cloth pile. As the brothers worked to bring some sort of life into the fire, Frisk pulled off her wet jeans, shirt and socks. She pulled on the t-shirt that hung down almost to her knees. Though it was nice to be in dryer clothes, her skin was still chilly and moist. She clambered onto the couch and rolled herself up in one of the blankets from the pile. She watched through a small opening in the cloth as Papyrus stuck his head into the hearth, trying to work on it.

Frisk closed her eyes. With so little heat coming out of her own body, there was nothing for the blanket to warm her up with. Exhausted though she was, her icy toes were keeping her from sleep. After failing at sleeping or warming up for a while, Frisk felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey,” said Sans, “How’re you feeling?”

Frisk shrugged. She was out of the elements and drying. That was something.

“Papyrus has almost got it.” He nodded towards the fire place. “But, uh, in the meantime…” He fished his phone out of his pocket. “Tori’s left me…twelve messages so far. We should probably do something about that.” Frisk sat up and leaned forward to look at his screen.

“Have you listened to them?” she asked.

“Uh…no,” he answered, his expression uncommonly nervous.

Frisk bit her lip for a moment in thought. “Maybe I should just text her,” she said. Sans handed her the phone gratefully and she began typing. Using as correct punctuation as she could, she explained that the car had broken down a little ways along the road and they had walked back. Then that her phone had run out of batteries so she hadn’t been able to call, and apologized for worrying her. Lastly she explained that Sans and Papyrus had prepared a good place for her to sleep and that they were all doing well.

Not ten second after sending it did Toriel respond, asking if she was hurt. Frisk repeated that she was doing fine. Toriel offered to come over and spend the night there with her but Frisk responded that that wasn’t necessary and the roads were really bad. After twenty-something exchanged messages, Toriel seemed pacified and bid her goodnight.

[Sleep well, my child,] texted Toriel.

[Goodnight, Mom,] replied Frisk, [Love you.]

She handed the phone back to Sans, who’d been waiting patiently.

“Everything settled?” he asked.

“Yeah, she’ll be over in the morning.”

“Fair enough.”

“Success!” came a sudden exclamation from the other side of the room. The two of them looked to see Papyrus now standing in front of a cheerfully crackling fire.

“Ah, nice,” said Sans.

“And now…” said Papyrus. He turned and strode across the room to the couch.

“Come Frisk! Bask in the warmth of my glorious fire!” He scooped her off the couch, blanket and all, and carried her back across the room to sit in front of the bright, dancing flames. Maybe a little too bright, thought Frisk as she noticed the practical tower of wood in the hearth. It was indeed warm, though, and she smiled as she could finally feel genuine heat spreading over her body.

“Looks good, Bro,” she heard Sans say as he sat next to them. He had grabbed the extra blanket that Papyrus had brought and wrapped it around his shoulders.

“Of course it is,” Papyrus remarked proudly, “Oh, that’s right.” He looked down at Frisk. “Did you still want to roast marshmallows? I think we have some left.”

Frisk watched the flames quietly and soon let out a yawn, her cold finally giving way to drowsiness.

“Maybe later then?” said Papyrus as the human gathered herself into his lap. She pulled the blanket around until only her face was showing.

“Maybe tomorrow,” yawned Sans, letting his head slump onto his chest as his eyes began to droop.

“Tomorrow then,” said Papyrus, leaning back so Frisk could lean against him and drift off into her own warm sleep.


End file.
